


Rebirth

by zarabithia



Category: Captain America (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Past Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-23
Updated: 2007-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:24:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1636295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick Fury arranges a test to make certain that the man who came back to them really is Steve Rogers.  Bucky is more than ready to help.  Steve/Bucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> Written for cero ate

 

 

The world had missed Steve Rogers.  


Even those who hadn't been consciously concerned with the blond haired man behind Captain America's identity that Tony Stark and his S.H.I.E.L.D. buddies had paraded around for everyone to see, those whose lives were otherwise too busy to care about the going-ons of the superhuman population beyond whether or not the registration act passed, had still been affected. Steve's death had marked the start of a darker era, one that lacked the kind of optimism Steve and his shield had always brought to battle, and ushered in a more uncertain time in which heroes were doubted among the general populace far more than they had been before the registration nonsense began. As for the heroes themselves, without Steve to guide them a general malaise had settled over their ranks, even when they weren't amplifying public fear by fighting among themselves.  


Not that they hadn't had a damn good Captain America while Steve had been gone. The kid had done Steve proud, and there was no one else Nick Fury would have chosen to wear the suit or carry the shield. Still, Bucky's tenure as Captain America was hampered by serving the kind of corrupt regime that didn't have any understanding of what Captain America should stand for (even if their S.H.I.E.L.D. director should have) and the guilt over actions Bucky'd never had any control over as Winter Soldier, which made Captain America too full of the kind of self doubt that Steve never had.  


These things were plain as day to Nick Fury, as was the knowledge that there was very little anyone could do about it. Only Steve's resurrection could change the state of affairs...and they'd already been given one miraculous rebirth of Steve Rogers. Fury didn't figure any of them had any right to hope for a second.  


They got one anyway.  


"How?" It was the first word the kid asked, sitting across from Fury in the office that still smelled like Tony Stark, despite all Fury's efforts to change that.  


Steve had been wrong about cigar smoke overpowering everything. When this matter was taken care of, Fury planned to gloat about that.  


The kid's posture was upright and perfect, every outward appearance appropriate to the costume he wore. But his voice was small in a way that made him sound younger than he had been when Fury had first met him.  


"Apparently, Namor had a vested interest in pulling one over on Tony Stark," Fury answered with a shrug. Fury personally thought that Stark would be far too happy to know that Steve was alive again to give a petty damn about who was responsible for it. In fact, had they not found Bucky before Steve's death, it might have been Stark Fury had called on to do the task he was about to ask of Bucky. Even if Stark _had_ screwed up Fury's office. "You want to waste time on the details, or you want to see him?"  


"I want to see him." The words came with the kind of conviction that years worth of regret in not tying up loose ends between Steve and Bucky before Steve's death had caused, yet the actual standing was shaky and far more unsure than anyone in Captain America's uniform should be.  


Fury didn't blame the kid. When he'd gotten the news, he'd been a bit shaky in the knees too.  


"Let's go then." Fury stood and walked silently out of the room, leading Bucky to the training room where Steve was waiting for them. Pausing outside of the doors, Fury turned to face the impatient and hopeful kid in front of him. "Every DNA test says it's him. Every test we can run says that's Steve Rogers behind these doors. He's passed the strength and agility tests...but we need to be certain. You know him more intimately than anyone else. Spar with him, kid. Make sure it is him, and not a trick."  


Just because he didn't have any reason to believe that Namor would pull that kind of stunt on them, didn't mean he wouldn't.  


Nor did it mean Namor himself wasn't being fooled.  


There was, for the briefest of moments, a cloud of disappointment overshadowing the joy Bucky had shown in learning Steve was alive. It was replaced by resignation and the kid gave a curt nod. "I will."  


Fury nodded in response, and gave the kid a "good luck" pat on the shoulders - an odd thing to do for someone who was dressed in a Captain America costume - before departing.  


Bucky and Steve needed to be alone for this to work, and Fury didn't need to be in the same room with them to watch the results.  


***  


The minute Bucky walked into the room, he realized he should have changed first. Standing in front of Steve while wearing a Captain America suit ... felt _wrong._  


Naturally, Steve was able to read his discomfort and tried to put him at ease, just as he'd always done before.  


"It looks good on you," Steve said, and some of Bucky's discomfort did melt away at the reassurance.  


It sounded so much like Steve's voice, and it looked like Steve. It might have been a long time since Bucky had seen Steve in such casual attire - jeans and a t-shirt - but it was the kind of memory one didn't easily forget.  


"Tried to make it look good," Bucky answered. "Had a lot to live up to."  


Steve's smile was warm and soft, and Bucky was fourteen all over again, trying to figure out how a man he thought was so strong and invincible could face down Hitler one minute and be gentle enough to reassure a confused kid the next.  


Bucky wasn't aggravated to still be that unsure kid in front of Steve. He was too busy being grateful that Steve was _here_ to make him feel that way...and besides, Bucky would have given anything to go back and _be_ that unsure kid all over again.  


"Fury showed me surveillance footage of a few of your battles," Steve answered. "You did a great job, Bucky. I'm even prouder of you than I was before."  


Bucky didn't care, as he stood in front of Steve, that he hadn't deserved that pride for a long time. He didn't care that his actions had been horrific, or that he'd stood for everything they'd ever fought against.  


All that mattered in that instance was that Steve was proud of him.  


He cleared his throat a little nervously. "Fury wants us to spar," he said. "He wants me to make sure you're battle ready."  


"Another test?" Steve questioned, and Bucky felt privileged to be one of the few people in the world that Steve would feel comfortable enough to roll his eyes in front of. "Alright, then, Buck. Won't be the first time we've tumbled on the mat together, will it?"  


No, it wouldn't, and Bucky hoped there would be more down the road.  


***  


Twenty minutes into the proceedings, Bucky was winning the sparring match.  


From the comfort of his office, Fury watched the proceedings and resisted the urge to be worried or concerned. It was disconcerting, because Steve Rogers was the best hand to hand combatant he had ever known, and not even Winter Soldier had been better.  


It was enough to confirm Fury's worst fears.  


Yet, there were other possibilities to explain why Steve wasn't kicking Bucky's ass, and Fury wasn't willing to dismiss them yet.  


***  


Steve felt the frustration building in his sparring partner, and he didn't quite understand what the problem was, until Bucky's outburst.  


"You're holding back!" It was spat towards Steve with a blow that he easily deflected. "I shouldn`t be winning this match so easily."  


"You've gotten better," Steve said simply. "It's only natural that - "  


"Bullshit, Steve," Bucky retorted. "I'm good, but you're the best there is. You're holding back, and you never have before, so I don't why you are now when so much is riding on you showing us you're ready to be Captain America again."  


Steve deflected another blow, this one thrown with more irritation. Bucky was trying to talk some sense into him, which showed how much he had grown, but Bucky had always had a temper, and his frustration at Steve not giving it his all was palpable.  


"I've fought you in earnest once before, Bucky, when you were Winter Soldier," Steve said quietly. "It's hard not to think of that when we spar."  


Bucky bowed his head, and Steve instantly felt guilty for the shame he'd not intended to cause his partner. "It wasn't your fault, Bucky."  


"No," Bucky agreed slowly. "Which is why the Steve Rogers I knew wouldn't want me to keep it from allowing me to improve my skills. Hell, the Steve Rogers I knew always sparred with me to the best of his ability so that I could learn from getting my ass kicked. If you're really him, then you'd know that, and you wouldn't hold back. Steve Rogers never _let_ his opponent win a day in his life."  


Bucky was right, and Steve felt foolish for not realizing it sooner. "When did you get so smart?" he asked.  


Bucky smirked back at him as he replied, "I had a great teacher."  


***  


Fury was on his second cigar by the time the tide of the sparring turned, and he allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief as the flurry of movements increased in speed and ferocity on screen in front of him.  


The kid was good, but Steve was better, and as Steve managed to pin the boy on the sparring mat, Fury allowed himself to feel the kind of hope that he'd managed to suppress through every damn test his team had put Steve through.  


***  


"Do you concede, Mr. Barnes?" Steve asked. He was straddling Bucky, and holding his arms down at muscle points that made it impossible to move any of his body above his waist.  


Bucky'd never quite learned that trick.  


"I do, Mr. Rogers," Bucky said with the mock seriousness that had always been their habit.  


"We both agree that I stopped holding back?" Steve asked with the same mock seriousness, that sounded, as it always had, more sincere than Bucky's.  


"Well, considering that you have me pinned down..." Bucky pointed out with a soft laugh that ruined the pretend seriousness of their sparring. Off Steve's head tilt, he explained, "Been a while since I've had the pleasure of being underneath you."  


It was a hell of a presumptuous thing to say. With the time that had passed between them, and all the lovers Steve had taken while Bucky had been "dead," it was colossally unfair to demand or even request things go back to the way they had been sixty years before.  


But, dammit, life had been thrown enough bullshit his way that Bucky felt entitled, just this once, to be unfair back.  


Steve hesitated in responding just long enough to loosen his hold on Bucky's arms. His hands immediately went to Bucky's face and before Bucky could register the hope of what the act meant, had removed Bucky's cowl.  


"The rest of your costume looks a little complicated," Steve said as he cupped Bucky's face. "I'll work on your pants, but it'll be faster if you work on that top."  


"Iron Man designed it," Bucky answered, needing to make sure that the mention of Tony Stark didn't make Steve change his mind. "You can take any issues with the costume up with him."  


"I'll be sure to do that." There was no regret in Steve's face or his words, and more importantly, there was no regret in the kiss that Steve planted on Bucky's lips.  


Bucky opened up to Steve, eagerly welcoming his partner's probing tongue into his mouth as Steve's hands began undoing Bucky's belt.  


Steve's hands brushed against Bucky's stomach, causing Bucky to lose concentration on the kiss in an effort to push up against the skin touching his own. Steve nibbled on Bucky's lower lip, bringing Bucky's attention back to the kiss briefly before he pushed the pants down past Bucky's hips.  


Bucky groaned into the mouth on his, and pushed back eagerly against Steve's tongue with his. Steve responded by caressing the firm skin of Bucky's backside, drawing circles teasingly close to where his butt cheeks parted.  


Bucky whimpered and began kicking his way out of his pants.  


Steve chuckled and allowed them both the freedom to breathe. "Still impatient, Bucky?" he teased.  


"Some things never change," Bucky retorted, running his hand - the good, _human_ one - up Steve's shirt. A thousand memories of similar moments tried to interfere, but Bucky was tired of remembering what used to be.  


He wanted to make _new_ memories with Steve, instead of being forced to dwell on the old ones.  


"Some of the best things never change," Steve answered. "And I'd like to give you a better demonstration of what I mean by that, but you _still_ have your top on."  


Steve sat up a bit as he said it, removing his own shirt as he went, and the loss of contact was all the reason Bucky needed to hastily remove the top half of his costume. If he fumbled along the way, well, that was only to be expected really, and Steve was patient enough not to notice.  


Happily, once the costume had been removed, Steve's patience ended, and Bucky found himself on the receiving end of a very persistent mouth dropping kisses along the base of Bucky's throat.  


His hand reached up to twine in Steve's hair as Steve combined his kisses with a subtle downward thrust of his own hips against Bucky's groin. Bucky's cock was painfully hard as he arched up against his lover.  


"Both hands, Buck," Steve murmured against Bucky's throat. Bucky hesitated - he'd taken his fair share of lovers since Steve had been gone, and he'd never used _that_ hand for any play with _any_ of them.  


Sensing his hesitation, Steve admonished slightly, "Without the hand, and all it represents, you wouldn't still be alive, Bucky. You wouldn't be here for me to make love to. I'll cherish how it feels on me for that reason alone."  


Bucky'd never been any good at arguing with the man.  


As awkward as it felt, Bucky wrapped both arms around Steve. His human hand he allowed to twirl in Steve's hair, tugging against the blond strands to show his appreciation as Steve's mouth began moving further down Bucky's body. The _other_ hand Bucky allowed to run over the rippling muscles of Steve's back.  


Steve's descent was a slow, lazy trail of kisses over Bucky's skin. Steve noticed every scar, every mark that hadn't been there when Bucky had been the scrawny teenage sidekick at his side, and Steve paused at every one of those scars long enough to suckle the skin until it turned purplish red from his efforts. Content only once his own mark overshadowed the scar, Steve continued on to the next one, paying little attention to the desperate hitches of breath his mouth was causing the man beneath him.  


"Steve," Bucky moaned.  


"Hmm?" Steve asked against the curve of Bucky's right hip, seemingly heedless to the frustration and need in Bucky's request.  


"Want you," Bucky begged. "Please?"  


Steve looked up at him, smiled, and reached for his pants. The lack of touch burned Bucky's skin, and the cry of protest built in his throat.  


When Steve pulled out the lube in his pocket, Bucky was glad he hadn't vocalized his cry. "Fury?" He asked simply.  


Steve nodded. "He thought we might need it," Steve said, and for the first time since stripping Bucky naked, Steve blushed.  


"Creepy bastard," Bucky grumbled. "Remind me to thank `im later."  


Steve merely grinned as he opened the lube.  


***  


In his office, Nick Fury was too busy being relieved too care much about being called a creepy bastard.  


Most people would have agreed with the sentiment, besides.  


Still, it had been a necessary precaution, and he watched Steve right up until he entered Bucky. It wasn't modesty or a sense of privacy that made him turn off the video feed.  


Simply put, the answer to his query had been satisfied. The tenderness and devotion the man purporting to be Steve Rogers had shown Bucky had proved beyond a shadow of a doubt what all the other tests had failed to convince Fury of.  


The man's claims were valid. Steve Rogers _had_ returned to them.  


No one else loved Bucky the way Steve did. It was the part of Steve that Fury didn't think could be faked.  


Plans needed to be made so that announcements and celebrations could be had...and if Fury spent a little extra time relieving himself in the private bathroom next to his office before beginning those plans, he didn't figure he owed anyone a explanation for that.  


***  


It took approximately two thrusts of Steve's hips to hit Bucky's prostrate.  


At that point, Bucky's world went white, and all hesitation he might have had in touching Steve using both hands went out the window, as he reached forward and dug his fingers into Steve's hips.  


Steve's smile increased, but the rhythm of both his hands on Bucky's cock and the hips thrusting into Bucky stayed steady.  


Bucky wanted to last for as long as possible - they had decades worth of separation to make up for - but his body had other plans in mind in how to react to Steve's touch. As he drew closer to the edge of losing control, Steve helped his resolve crumble completely by pressing down on the slit at the tip of Bucky's cock.  


Two more such presses, and three jerks later, Bucky was coming in Steve's hands as his whole body erupted with pleasure.  


By the time Steve followed suit, Bucky's body was pleasantly and thoroughly numb and he was completely willing to lie on the sparring mat and let Steve hold him.  


Fury'd take care of unwanted visitors, Bucky figured, and he had no regret about putting the outside world on hold while he lay in Steve's arms.  


The world may have missed Steve Rogers, but no one had missed him more than Bucky.

 


End file.
